I saw his body laid out on the concrete and all I could do was scream. He was 11 weeks old, barely seven pounds. I was convinced he was dying. And it was my fault. I couldn’t lose him too, not after everything else I had lost in my world.
These past two years have been a whirlwind, and writing is part of what’s gotten me through. Memories are heavy, and also comforting. And we are making new ones everyday.
Pregnant with my daughter after the loss of my son, life is often complicated. Sometimes I can’t sleep. Sometimes I write about it.
I still wonder, now, if Amy knew what was coming. She was already pretty attached to me. It was hard to say for sure. She and Saki liked to cuddle around my big belly on the couch at night. Some nights I would sleep there. Life seemed pretty good.
I remember that first waiting room afterwards, back in the hospital. I remember walking in, surrounded by people. They were pregnant and they were holding newborn babies, and I wanted to scream, “What is this nightmare? What happened to my life?”
This has been a long year, and every time I think I’m okay, I find new heartbreak; new fears. I also find new joy. Because the day before I said goodbye to Amy Anne, I took a chance on new life, and I am both terrified & ecstatic to announce that this spring, Adrian James will become a big brother.